


drive our ships to new land

by thorvaenn



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Ragnarok, Sharing a Bed, Siblings, Talking, ragnarok spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-25 05:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12524176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorvaenn/pseuds/thorvaenn
Summary: Post-Ragnarok and containing spoilers!Set immediately after.Things are talked about, alcohol is consumed. Decisions are made, quite responsibly after a good night's sleep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to make the summary too spoilery.
> 
> This is a very quick tale of things unsaid, new armour and living conditions aboard a spaceship.
> 
> I hope you loved the movie as much as I did <3 I am very inspired and hopefully I will be writing a ton of canon-set fics.

“Did you ask for this?”

 

Thor glances at him, amused. It's still a shock, even after several days, to see his face not only lacking the softness his long hair lent it, but also disturbed by an object so familiar and yet so foreign.

 

Looking at him is like double vision, and one that Loki loathes. He does not enjoy equating Thor to their father.

 

“Of course I didn't,” Thor says, looking back down at the two sets of armour that are now carefully spread side by side on top of Thor's bed. The material of each looks to be the same, black and supple, but the styles are vastly different. Fitting each of them. “I hope they didn't skin Miek for it.”

 

“He's an insect, Thor, he doesn't have a hide to skin,” Loki says absent-mindedly, still staring down at the brand new clothing. Thor's is sleeveless and tight, discs with skilled engraving of protecting runes adorning it. It's not shocking that the surviving Asgardians would rally and put their energy (so restless as they are now all merely drifting through space slowly) into crafting something worthy for their king to wear, what _is_ shocking is that they've done the same for Loki. His own new set of armour is layered and a quick touch of his hand reveals many slips and nooks between the leather that store weapons.

 

“Their saviour, hm?”

 

Loki nearly jumps. He never saw Thor moving, too lost in his thoughts and now Thor is right at his back, breathing that taunt down Loki's neck. And laughing at his reaction, when one comes.

 

“You are remarkably stealthy for a man who can only see a half of what he should,” Loki mutters, oddly shaken. It probably makes his words a bit harsher than he would like, seeing as he himself can barely comprehend that Thor has lost one of his eyes forever, but Thor doesn't appear to mind.

 

“I see enough,” Thor tells him, something very matter-of-fact in his tone despite his words being barely above a whisper in volume.

 

Yes, Loki supposes. He does. It would be hard not to see the way Loki has slunk after him ever since his play-pretend at being a king was over. Journeying to Earth together. Fighting together. Escaping together.

 

Well, _mostly_ together. And now here Loki is, trapped on a spaceship with half of Asgard and a mismatched band of weirdos. And it is all for Thor, and the fool – or sadly, not so much of a one – sees it very well.

 

“Are you trying to make me regret it?”

 

The _it_ being coming here. Admitting, wordlessly, that yes, Thor was right; it was getting ridiculous, the way he lately only stuck by Thor's side to betray him later, even if so many of his choices spoke blatantly of what truly mattered to him. Admitting that he cared about Asgard, about their _family,_ about it all, enough to come back, fighting against unlikely odds.

 

“No, I'm simply wondering whether we have to go through this dance again and again. It costs lives, more often than not, you know.”

 

It's unnerving, having Thor at his back like that, the tips of Loki's boots pressed against the foot of the bed, staring down at the fashionable offerings of their people that were laid upon it for their approval.

 

_Their people._

 

“Don't call it a dance. This is serious, you know.” It feels serious when it's in his head. The desperate need to prove himself, to break away from this treacherous family. Only now there is only he and Thor left. And the only true traitor is him.

 

“I know it is. I just said it costs people their lives.”

 

Snorting quietly, Loki turns and pushes Thor out of his way. “That's enough.”

 

“What, aren't you going to try it on?”

 

Steeling himself, Loki looks at Thor, chin up, eyes open. So different. Still the same. He has to fight to find the breath to speak.

 

“I might take it to my cabin for later. The quality seems nice.”

 

Thor's forehead creases, his eye finding the ceiling. Voice pitched high: “Aa-bout your cabin...”

 

Loki shuts his eyes. Waits for a couple of seconds. Opens them again to find only the incomprehensible sight before him. Thor, beloved Thor, past his childhood, past a chunk of his youth, robbed of hair and an eye, still looking so mirthful and excited as though there is nothing in the universe that bothers him. Grinning.

 

“What have you done?”

 

“Me? Nothing,” Thor assures him, stepping away towards the little bar area – truly little as the cabin itself isn't too large, certainly not fit for a king – and pouring two glasses of some indiscriminate liquor. “I'm afraid it's you who took up a whole suite just for yourself while there are families with children in desperate need of housing. Changes had to be made”

 

Loki snatches up the offered glass and collapses into one of the two available armchairs. Tossing the drink back, he tries not yell.

 

“So I'm without a cabin,” he sighs once the sting of the alcohol has taken the edge off.

 

“No,” Thor counters, taking a deep sip of his own. “I would never do that. You share mine.”

 

Loki, pointedly slowly, looks around. There is the sitting area – and a bar, thanks Norns – that they are in, with two chairs and a tiny table. There is the bed, currently occupied by two sets of new armour – he supposes that if their clothing fits on it, they should too – a little window staring out into the nothingness of space, and a door that Loki dearly hopes is a private bath.

 

“I'm going to kill you in your sleep if we spend more than two days together here,” he says calmly and stretches out his hand for Thor to refill his glass.

 

Thor obliges, the dark brown liquid (it has a greenish tint to it and Loki has never tasted what they are drinking, so he tries to ignore that) sloshing around the edges until it almost spills over Loki's knuckles.

 

“I'll be very busy. Perhaps you will be too. We can take turns sleeping.”

 

“Well, there is no day and night in space,” Loki replies before realizing that he is both agreeing with what his brother just said, and revealing something that he was ready to leave buried between them.

 

But Thor is being an exceptionally good brother to him. He says nothing and pours him another drink.

 

* * *

 

Waking is a confusing thing, set straight only by the pounding of his head and the disgusting taste in his mouth.

 

The bed is unfamiliar, so is the air and the odd buzz all around, but the atrocious hungover he can place.

 

He can also place the pair of legs tangled with his. What had he and Thor done-

 

No, no, of course. It has been years, perhaps decades since waking up with Thor after abundance of drink meant they had been out together, making merry. Reality settles in effortlessly and quickly enough that Loki isn't too sure how he was ever confused about what was going on. They were locked in a small cabin on a space ship. Their home was no more.

 

That liquor – likely brewed on Sakaar – must have been strong and disgusting enough to make Loki forget for a short while.

 

There is blessedly enough space on the bed for him to roll onto his back, away from Thor who is still on his side, facing away, and to just breathe through the headache for a bit, focusing on the rolling of his stomach.

 

This was not where he thought he would be mere day ago, lying on the ground of the docks of Sakaar, spasming as his brother zapped him with the obedience disk. It was not where he thought he would be when he pocketed the Tessaract from the Vault.

 

Oh, _that_. Hopefully there were no children playing with it by now. He did leave it in one of the closets of the suite, after all...

 

Beside him, Thor grunts, turning around and sleepily wrapping an arm around Loki. His eye patch has slipped and Loki gazes at the still bruised, darkened skin that stretches taut over the socket. His fingers itch to touch it, _soothe_ it, but he fights it, settling for allowing Thor to be this close in a clumsy, snoring embrace.

 

They might need to talk about this, too, at some point. About these embraces. About Thor conveniently giving away Loki's chosen living space on this improbable ship just to keep him close, and about Loki accepting it with an uncharacteristic lack of fuss.

 

But later. Loki nuzzles back into Thor's embrace, willing to sleep his headache away.

 

They will have time later.

 

 

 


	2. later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little follow up - the morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy a little addition to this. The morning after and Thor's outlook on things.

He thinks it's another nightmare at first.

 

His dreams about Ragnarok started pleasantly sometimes too. He would walk through a busy street, the markets bustling with activity, people talking, laughing. Slowly, their voices would fade away and terrible stillness would come upon the city and then, only then would it start. The fire. Other times, he would find himself passing through long stalks of wheat, feeling their caress as well as the gentle breeze. The next moment, everything would be dead and blackened, smouldering.

 

So yes, waking up warm and comfortable, skin pressed to skin, tentative hope beating in his chest, he expects it to go wrong.

 

Eyelid lifting, everything slots into place. It takes him a while to focus his gaze and for a long moment the room just looks like a shamble of shapes stacked on top of each other. Only then does he realize that his view is further obscured by fluffed up dark hair and the outline of a jaw.

 

Oh.

 

It's not a nightmare, nor a dream, but vastly more preferable to either.

 

That is, until Loki wakes, Thor supposes. He doesn't expect this to go easy.

 

Last night was soothing, much needed for both of them, but even in his hopeful state Thor doesn't see how they could weather this closeness once awake and sober.

 

And closeness it is. Thor has both arms wrapped around Loki's waist and Loki has his head tucked beneath Thor's chin, a thigh pressed between Thor's legs. A flutter of panic rises Thor's pulse when he focuses on that. It could be... a problem.

 

He shifts as carefully as he can but at the first hint of movement Loki's breath hitches and he opens his eyes. Thor can see it, just barely, but there's no mistaking the annoyed little grunt that Loki lets out just before he lifts his chin to look up at Thor.

 

“Well,” he says, “I feel better than I did before.”

 

He's not moving. Thor's not sure why he isn't moving. Or saying anything. Well, anything more specific.

 

“Before when?”

 

“I don't know, I woke up through the night... day, whatever, with cursed hangover.”

 

A shift of his leg, dragging his thigh away from Thor's crotch, but not by much. Thor still waits for the yelling. Or violence.

 

“I think I must have slept through mine.”

 

And it's true. His body aches in places but his head is surprisingly clear.

 

“Rub it in, would you.”

 

Thor doesn't want to think about rubbing anything right now.

 

They have been... daring, in the past. Little moments could be hidden in spaces between brotherhood and companionship. But back then, Thor always felt like he could set everything back into bounds with a laugh and a clasp on the shoulder. With a little step back. With turning his eye towards a maid or a soldier.

 

And he always did.

 

Perhaps it's because they're the only ones left, because their home is gone, Thor doesn't see the safety where he saw it before. He doesn't know if he could or should put that into words, but tries anyway.

 

“A lot of the things that mattered before are... nothing now.”

 

He can feel the smile in Loki's voice when he replies. “What does that have to do with my hangover?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

This time, Loki turns, pulling his leg away fully until he's belly down on the mattress, forearms propped on Thor's chest.

 

“ _Things that used to matter are now nothing_?” Loki repeats, tone flat but eyes bright. “Is that your grand argument?”

 

“I don't have this figured out,” Thor protests, a touch defensively. Minutes ago he was just very, very tentatively thinking about how pleasant it is to be this close to his _brother_ and trying not to do anything inappropriate in the meantime. Now it seems like Loki is expecting answers from him.

 

Decisions.

 

Loki studies him, amused expression turning into a subtle scowl and Thor's stomach drops.

 

“I came back. Saved your ass.”

 

“And last night you said you didn't regret it.”

 

“I don't. And I think that speaks for itself.”

 

They're both scared, Thor realizes. Testing what the other thinks, with ample space to deny everything. Hell, Loki could deny it all now and Thor would believe him. Believe that he built this up in his head and that they both were simply a bit more tactile than could be expected. They were raised by a very affectionate mother after all.

 

Mother.

 

Thor thinks long and hard. The seconds pass, then minutes. Loki watches him at first, then closes his eyes again and rests his head on his arms.

 

“It's not because nothing matters anymore,” Thor says eventually. “It's because what's left matters more than ever. Too much to care about fear and conventions.”

 

Raising his head, Loki grins. “That's quite impressive. It was worth the wait.”

 

Thor narrows his eyes at him. “Like you had it all figured out.”

 

When mutual huffing and eye-rolling is settled, they are left in quiet. And proximity. It's the language of the body that has been Thor's lifeline through this conversation, where they both barely scrapped the surface of the true meaning. In silence now, just breathing, they are really pressed together in bed, scarcely clothed.

 

Loki isn't going to do it, Thor realizes. As the older brother, Thor wishes Loki would so that he could feel safe from reproach and not like he's just dragged an unwilling, impressionable sibling into a reckless adventure.

 

In the end, the motions of it are simple. A hand, cupping the back of Loki's head. Arm around his waist dragging him further up so that Thor only has to dip his head and their lips touch. A bit too dry and chaffed on the both of them, mouths less fresh than they might have envisioned, but it is a kiss nonetheless, perhaps not the first as such, if they count their giggly child experimentation, but definitely a first of its kind.

 

Once the barrier is down, Loki clambers on top of him and deepens the kiss. The hot touch of tongue reminds Thor that he is actually enjoying it – before, his mind was filled with nervous buzz and he could only focus on the goal of _moving forward_ or letting it go for good. Now there is no goal. He's done it. They've done it. And the _want_ that was after all always the foundation of this comes back with vengeance.

 

Loki breaks away from him, panting. Thor stares up, wishing he had both eyes to appreciate what he's seeing. As though reading his mind, Loki bends down to press a light kiss just under his ruined eye.

 

“And all it took was the end of the world.”

 


End file.
